


Lost and Found

by SomewhereApart



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 23:02:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2790944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomewhereApart/pseuds/SomewhereApart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beginning with their goodbyes at the town line, Robin and Regina learn to live without each other again. But does fate have other plans?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Robin

She's asking him if he has everything she's given to him, all the provisions she's procured for their one-way trip across the town line, into a strange world that even he is not terribly familiar with. She asking him this and he sees her mouth moving, and hears the words coming out, even understands them, but they're drowned out by his own mind's desperate shouting pleas that this not be happening. That there must be some other way. That they need more time to solve this riddle, to remove this magic. That there must be some way he can stay with her.

But there is no way, none that they know now at least, and there is no time. Marian is shuddering and shivering behind him, icy cold, using Roland as a crutch. She has no more time, and when Regina tells him as such, he sends wife and child across into the great unknown with a sort of numb acceptance that there's no turning back now.

And then she is healed, miraculously, this world without magic serving her quite well, from its very first moments. (He has always been wary of magic, had always thought a world without it would be better, kinder - and then he'd met Regina, and fallen in love with magic, with the sparking, glowing wonder of it, with the power and strength she used to wield it). She hefts his boy, and they grin and giggle, and then she turns to him and her face falls, frightened. She calls his name.

She cannot see him. She is yards away at most and cannot see him, and Robin's heart clenches like a fist at the knowledge that moments from now he will look back and Regina will be gone as well. Gone forever. Those lovely dark eyes, and those soft painted lips. That smile he loves so much will exist only when he closes his eyes, and he cannot bear the thought, cannot bear it.

His head is all buzzing, all panic, his eyes prickling with wet.

This cannot be their fate. This cannot be it. He had promised her hope and a second chance, and she had so little of the former to begin with and had given up on the latter years ago. She will give up again, he knows. She is resilient, she is full of strength, but she daren't hope, it had never served her well, and he knows that once he leaves her, she will tuck her heart away, lock it up and throw away the keys. No thief will have the skill or fortitude to steal it back. She will remain alone. He knows it down to his bones.

He is about to leave her alone and loveless, and he cannot bear it. Simply cannot bear it.

He's turned to join his family, to walk away from her, but he cannot bear it.

He must turn back, must kiss her one more time, must make sure she _knows_ , that she is certain, that there is no question in her mind or heart that she will be loved for all eternity, even if she will not be able to hear it or see it or feel it on her skin.

His mouth crashes against hers, desperate and hard, (there must be another way than this, there must be), his fingertips against her soft, silken hair for the last time. Even that pains him, sends fresh agony through his body, the idea that he will never again thread his hands through the dark, fragrant mass of it. Their kisses gentle, her mouth soft against his for the last time, and his cheeks are wet and he is utterly uncaring.

His heart has broken open for her, all of his love is there for her, and he must take it away. He has chosen her - he chose her and she laughed at him, she could not believe it even then, even when he has known her fully, even when he has kissed every bare inch of her and held her as she trembled with release, even when he has slept with her tucked into his arms and whispered his affections into her hair, she could not believe he would have chosen her over duty and child. But he had, he had chosen her, and no sooner than, she was ripped from him by cruel magic (he wishes she could follow, could take Henry and venture out into this great world with them, but then what of Emma, and then what of Snow and David, and then it would be the whole town in the end, an exodus into the world with no way to return to their own, and maybe that wouldn't be so bad, maybe–)

Her breath washes against his lips, shuddering, she is trembling, they are pressed together brow-to-brow, and he knows he is being foolish. These thoughts are foolish. She cannot go, and he cannot stay, but he cannot bear the thought of her without him and him without her. He'd only just found her, it seems.

"I…"

He begins to speak, but he's not sure how he means to finish. I love you? I'm sorry? I will find you again? I will miss you with every beat of my heart and every breath in my lungs? I beg you to follow?

Before he can forge ahead, though, she is whispering, "I know," and he thinks with a clawing panic that it is the last time he will hear her voice, that lovely voice, those words spoken just for him. But there's weight there in her words; she knows, she knows all of it, he needn't speak another word, for they are of one soul and twin hearts and she knows his love is true.

This time, he does not turn and walk away, he cannot bear it. He will drink in the sight of her until he crosses that line, he will take in her face, pained and sorrowful as it is, until the very last moment.

He steps backward, backward, his hand joined with hers, their fingers touching (he will never touch those hands again, soft and strong, powerful and cruel and loving, those hands). He feels the barrier at his back, it presses like the surface of a still pond, washes over his body like water, past his ears, his cheeks, the tip of his nose and she is gone. He can still feel her against his fingertips, is still holding onto her hand, but cannot see her anymore, he has seen her for the very last time, she is gone.

His heart is breaking, aching, tearing into pieces, and he holds onto her for every second that he can, stepping back, back, his arm outstretched, his hand still in hers.

Her fingertips breach the barrier, held in his, and for a moment he thinks she means to follow (it would be foolish, awful, selfish, but he sees those fingertips in his and his heart springs with a dreadful hope). And then they part, slipping away. It's the last he sees of her, those tips of her fingers, disappearing into a shimmering pool of magic, beyond the veil, lost.

Roland calls out for him and he scoops him up into his arms, holds him close, but he is still searching, searching, looking for her even though he knows he will not see her. There is nothing before him but open road. She is there, not more than feet in front of him, but he sees nothing but fog and wet asphalt. As if she were some wonderful, painful dream he must now wake from and never fall into again.

He wonders at the depth of his love for her, his Regina, wonders how it could have grown so strong and so true in such a short while. But it did, it has, and he feels the loss of her like he had the loss of Marian all those years ago. It rips a hole in his heart that he fears will never be mended, and as he turns and walks away, as he presses his now-broken body against Marian's healed one, he wonders how they will make their way in this world. How he will mend his heart and move on.

But just as it had after Marian had been plucked from him, life does go on, and they do make their way.

Regina had sent them with plenty of money, more than enough to find lodging in the next town over (he cannot bring himself to venture further - they say it's because this sleepy hamlet is modern enough for them, about as much of this foreign land as they're willing to forge so soon, but in truth it is because he still holds a small kernel of hope that one day the barrier will fall and she will come for him, and how will she find him if he leaves the only place she knows he was headed for?).

Marian gets a job waiting tables at the very diner where they stopped at Regina's suggestion (a "Help Wanted" sign had hung in the window, and Marian is friendly, good with people, and thankfully literate - not the case for every person who's come from their world), and Robin procures employment at a convenience store, ringing up roadside travelers for gas and junk food (he's always been good with numbers, with money - and he's particularly good at sniffing out thieves; their loss reports show better numbers after six weeks of Robin's employ than they have in years).

They share an apartment, but not a bed, and Roland has never known his parents together so he doesn't find it strange that they're truly apart. Friends, but nothing more. He knows Marian still loves him, but his heart is too raw, his pain too fresh, for him to sink back into her.

Days pass into weeks into months, life grown comfortable, routine.

And then one day, he glances out the window of the Stop-N-Go just as a car pulls into pump number two.

It is a black Mercedes, old but well-kept, its driver stepping out into the damp, misty morning.

Dark hair, painted lips, those fingertips he still dreams of encased in soft black leather as they reach for the gas pump.

She's found him.


	2. Regina

There's a heaviness to life these days, but also a warmth.

Her bed is cold at night, but her kitchen is cozy in the morning, Henry taking up ever-increasing inches as he shoots up like a weed. And Snow comes over, often, with the baby. Pushes Neal at her as if his pudgy cheeks and baby smell will soothe some of the ache in her (they do, to be honest, but she'd never tell and it's only ever temporary anyway). She has a standing Friday night date with Emma, wherein she makes dinner (lasagna is a favorite, like mother like son) for both her and Henry, and then the two women sit in her study and knock back whiskey until the room wobbles pleasantly.

She has family. She has friends. She has love, but not the kind she craves.

Not the kind that keeps her up at night with memories of falling tears and torn pages, and a numb, agonized heart.

Robin had gone and with him all of her hope, but then Henry had run into Granny's, eager and excited, had dragged her and Emma out to the mansion in the woods, and buoyed her hope back to the surface.

They'd found the home of the Author.

The home of the Author, but no clues as to his identity. A sorcerer, that was all they knew. _The_ sorcerer.

The part of her that had been darkly thrilled at Rumple's downfall and subsequent banishment had grown ever more frustrated as they hit dead end after dead end.

He knew something. They'd gleaned that much from Hook, when they'd managed to cajole the details of his dirty deeds out of him. The hat, it's power, the fate of the fairies. Rumple knew more than he let on in her car that day, that was for certain. But with him gone and no hope of return, they'd struggled to find _anything_ that might be of any help in their quest.

They'd tried and failed to activate the hat themselves. It opened only at the behest of the Dark One's dagger, and there was no longer a Dark One to wield it. Not even the power of Regina and Emma combined could do anything to make it budge. To give them any hope of freeing the fairies within, the Apprentice trapped inside, the others whose kidnappings had given power to the magical headgear.

And then Rumple had reappeared, Ursula and Cruella in tow, and Maleficent revived soon after, and all hell had broken loose.

It has been a tiring time, made even worse by her lead-weighted limbs, by the exhaustion born of sleepless nights and too long without the sight of him. Of Robin. Of his blue eyes and the stubble on his jaw, and the way he smiles at her, his dimples, and his seeking hands.

All of that was meant to be hers, he had _chosen_ her; she had, for once, been chosen.

Some days the unfairness of it all crushes her like a boulder, a weight too heavy to bear. The desperation of her clawing, thrashing fight toward goodness, toward happiness, and it's constant inevitable resultant beatdown has begun to make Regina feel like she's breathing mud, walking through a swamp. Depression, she knows. Logically, she knows, and she knows she should talk to Archie, but what could he say? How could he help her?

She does not need Archie, she needs the Author.

She needs answers.

But it's a race now, Regina and the Heroes against Rumple and the Villains, a mad-dash scramble to discover the fate of the Sorcerer (she kicks herself again and again for revealing the truth of her quest to Rumple, for giving him the idea that there was someone whose hand he could force to ensure him success and power). Through treachery and manipulation, she has once again deceived Maleficent, once again managed to get the upper hand and obtain the thing she needs to ensure her happiness. It wasn't a curse this time, but information. All the information the Villains have on the identity of the Sorcerer, and of how to return to Storybrooke while the Snow Queen's barrier still holds.

It's that combined knowledge that has led her here, out of town, Henry beside her, the trunk of the car packed with clothes enough for several weeks, a magical dagger jammed beneath the driver's seat of her Mercedes, a magical hat crammed under the passenger seat.

They'd managed to keep the items away from Rumple until now, but he's closing in, she will not be able to evade him forever, and so they must go, and so must she. Out here into a word where they are powerless. Where she is powerless. There were things they unearthed that Rumple is heretofore unaware of, and what he doesn't know gives them an advantage: All signs point to the Sorcerer's graceful exit from the town some time during Zelena's reign of terror (a few flying monkeys would have been child's play for someone of his power).

He is out in the world, and now that she can come and go freely, Regina has taken Henry, leaving Emma and her stunningly powerful magic and her rudimentary training to defend Storybrooke against a league of villains while the two of them follow the trail of this Author.

They'd left in a hurry, early in the morning, and it wasn't until they passed the town line and Storybrooke shimmered away into nothingness behind them that Regina realized she hadn't filled the gas tank. They need to log miles today, need to make it far, far from here as quickly as possible before Rumple and the others realize they've gone. They cannot do that on an eighth of a tank of gas.

So they're delayed almost before they begin, pulling off into the Stop-N-Go in Archer Hills, just one town over. She'd sent Robin to this town, she thinks, and then she pushes the thought away. He and Marian are probably long gone by now. Or worse, he's grown accustomed to life without her and remembered how deeply he loved the woman he'd sworn he'd walk through hell and back to retrieve, and they are just around the corner, blissfully reunited as if Marian's assumed death, her years of absence, had been just a blip on the radar screen, and Regina not even that.

Either way, it's better she not hope. Hope has never gotten her anything anyway, and won't, she's certain of it, until she can find the Author and change her story. Robin will have to wait. (Robin has surely moved on.)

She fills the tank, breathes in the cold, damp air and the strong scent of gasoline, sending Henry inside with a handful of bills and instructions not to buy too much junk. A water for her, and maybe a few granola bars. Something for himself.

She watches the numbers on the ancient pump tick up, up, up as her gas tank fills. Replaces the nozzle when she finishes. This place is old, in sore need of an update. No pay-at-the-pump here, but it's alright. She sent Henry in with plenty of cash.

She leans against the driver's side door of her Mercedes, in no hurry to get back inside. She'll be sitting all day, might as well stretch her legs for a while now. She checks her phone (no messages, no surprise there), scans the road back toward home for any signs of the Villains she knows will follow soon enough. Nothing. Good.

And then Henry is calling her, "Hey, mom, I need more cash. You should come inside."

There's something off about his voice, though, something giddy she doesn't quite understand.

Regina sighs, and pushes away from the car, looping her keyring around her finger and clutching the keys themselves in her palm. She'd sent him in with more than enough money for gas and snacks. Whatever mountain of provisions he thinks he needs will have to be whittled down.

She pushes through the doors, and sighs, "Henry, we can get more snacks later, all we need now is–"

Keys hit worn grey tile with a metallic clink that sounds like gunfire in the silence of the store.

Regina's fingers are slack at her side, her mouth open, breath caught.

Henry is standing in front of the checkout counter, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, incredibly pleased.

Regina does not see him.

On the counter is a giant bottle of the most expensive water this place has to offer, a six-pack of Nature Valley granola bars (the kind that crumble and crunch and make an absolute mess of the car), three packs of Cheetos, some jerky, and a Mountain Dew.

She does not see them either.

All she sees is the man _behind_ the counter.

Robin.

Standing there like something out of an L.L. Bean catalog and something out of a dream. Red plaid flannel rolled up to his elbows, his beard a little fuller than it had been the last time she saw him, his eyes the same beautiful blue that she remembers.

"Hello, milady," he greets her, and his voice washes over her like a refreshing wind, her breath whooshing out at the sound. That heavy, suffocating weight she's been under since the moment he crossed the town line goes with it, and she nearly sags in her spot.

"R-Robin?" she manages, barely more than a whisper, and then he's around the counter, and gathering her in his arms and kissing her senseless. His fingers are in her hair (they were always in her hair, always, he loved her hair), and he still smells like pine and open air. Still tastes like hope and second chances.

Their mouths part, and their foreheads meet, and he murmurs into the space between them, "I hear Operation Mongoose is sending you on quite the quest."

She nods, dumbly, she still has no words, still cannot believe he was just here, waiting for her, at her first stop outside the town line.

"Let me help," he pleads gently, just as he had that morning in her crypt. A lifetime ago, and yet not so very far into the past. "Let me go with you."

He can't, she thinks. Not with Roland here, not with Marian here, not with a life and apparently a job here. Not with the Author not yet found and the story not yet rewritten.

The voice that says, "Okay," does not sound like hers, but it was her mouth that moved, and it is his mouth that smiles.

Robin will not be parted with his family, and will not leave them to the danger that is a ruthless team of villains on the hunt for a Queen carrying magical treasures, so it is decided they will all go. Together. Marian has an adventurous heart and a quick mind (and she still feels she owes Regina her life several times over). She also has a vested interest in happy endings that aren't always what one had planned. Roland is young, and will go where he's taken.

Within an hour, Robin and Marian have both called in a family emergency to their respective bosses. A gravely ill relative that they must travel to at once, and they are all of them - Regina and Robin in the Mercedes, and Marian with both boys in Robin's truck (she's the better driver, he admits, and besides they could use some time alone) - on the road.

Regina steals glances at him every few minutes, even though they are speaking constantly, even though his fingers are wrapped around hers, his thumb tracing her fingertips over and over as she drives one-handed.

She keeps expecting to blink and find him gone. To wake and find herself alone.

But he's there again in the morning, Storybrooke several states behind them, and out here in the world without magic, she dares to hope again.

They've found each other, once again, and maybe this time they won't be parted.

Maybe this time they'll fight for their happy ending, and win.


End file.
